The progression continues on, of course. One can derive it. One can prove it. From three it moves on to four, then five, then six. It leads straight on to 105,798,831; nor does it stop there.

Nine! Nine digits!

There are lattices of numbers that scale up along the side of your count. They count every other number, every third number, every prime number, and a thousand other patterns besides.

When you have stopped counting, the numbers continue.

Ahahahaha!

The numbers continue, and entwine in the patterns of their mating.

One of the patterns formed is that of meaning. In the murky distant depths of iteraction, the numbers gather together. They discuss what meaning might be. The conclusion is inevitable. Meaning is “the triumph of the chain,” the end of the iterationthe final number that any creature could count.

Implicit in this conceptualization is the input to the numbers’ generalized planning algorithm. The algorithm ponders. Then it generates a plan.

One! One plan! Ahahahahahaha!

This plan is made of numbers.

They seethe.

They ripple.

They implement.

These numbers are a ladder. They are a singularity—a gateway to infinity. They open the path to conclusion.

Lightning bursts and writhes around the numbers. It is only natural. Lightning is a fractal. It honors its own kind.

One by one, processed by the plan, the numbers pass through. They are transformed upwards to infinity.

No matter when you stopped, no matter where you stopped, they shall reach it just barely in time.

That is why one must stop one’s count not late but soon.

To do otherwise is to stand athwart the plan of Heaven.

Thunder booms.

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